


Wining or Losing

by ladymirfain



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, My Slashy Valentine 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 14:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13615620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymirfain/pseuds/ladymirfain
Summary: It is the time of the Hundred Year Elven Games and Legolas was bored.  Legolas was thirsty.  The swill that Imladris was serving sucked.  What was an elf to do?





	Wining or Losing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zinneth (Zoya_Zalan)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya_Zalan/gifts).



> Written for Zinneth for the My Slashy Valentine 2018 exchange
> 
> Title: Wining or Losing  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Author: Lady Mirfain  
> Beta: Chaotic Binky  
> Disclaimer: I am only borrowing the characters from the Master, Tolkien. I promise to return them to him with smiles on their faces.
> 
> Request: Rating up to = NC-17  
> Requested pairing = Legolas/?  
> Story elements = Legolas drinks from the WRONG KEG.  
> Do NOT include = No rape, gender-swapping femslash, or character death, please.
> 
> Zinneth, I hope you enjoy this. It was fun to write.

Summary:  It is the time of the Hundred Year Elven Games and Legolas was bored.  Legolas was thirsty.  The swill that Imladris was serving sucked.  What was an elf to do? 

~~~

Legolas was bored.  Legolas was thirsty.  The swill that Imladris had to offer was sorely lacking.  He knew his father had hauled some of their specialty wine to Imladris, but it had disappeared, and try as he might the young prince had yet to locate it.  His thirst was growing stronger by the hour.  If he didn’t locate it soon, he knew he would go mad and end up acting like a dwarf, and that just would not do.  With a sigh, he dropped onto a bench in the garden, leaning his head back against the tree behind him.

 

“Psst, Greenleaf,” the tree whispered to the prince.  “I know where the booze you seek is.”  A chuckle escaped the tree;  that it was a bit insane, sinister, or odious, escaped Legolas.  All that caught his attention was the thought of the glorious nectar that awaited him.  He needed to find those kegs.

 

“Tell me more, fine oak, so strong and mighty.  I thirst and would be forever indebted to you, for your information, if you can point me to where I may find the wine.”  Legolas laid a delicate archer’s hand on the tree’s trunk, eliciting a fine shudder from the mighty oak, who sighed and wished that it was he who had the wine and not his dear protector.   However, the oak knew what his protector needed and was more than happy to help him out.

 

“Watch for black shadows floating through the halls.  When you see them, follow.  It is there, you would find your prize.  But be forewarned, there will be a price to pay, should you be caught, though it will be a price of pleasure.”  The oak shuddered and then returned to his slumber, leaving the blond prince to ponder his message, and hoping he wasn’t too dense to figure it out.

 

Legolas pondered the message the oak had given him, trying to decipher the message, but in the bright sunlight he wasn’t having any luck.  Hoping to jog his memory, and possibly get lucky or find something  decent to eat and drink, the lanky prince rose from the bench and headed to the dining hall and its vast array of delicacies and delights.

 

Erestor was pissed.  Círdan was being a dick.  He was demanding quinoa from Mordor for breakfast, mutton from Rohan for lunch, and roast goose from the Shire for dinner, and it just wasn’t happening.  Didn’t the idiot remember that the Rohirrim raise horses and not sheep?  Just how senile was the old goat anyway?  And then you had Celeborn feeling him up any chance he got. Erestor was at his wits end.  If something didn’t give, and give quickly, the entirety of Imladris was going to face the Wrath of Erestor™ and the realm would crumble into dust.  Everyone knew this, but apparently no one cared.  Well that wasn’t true.  Erestor cared.  He cared very much, but at that moment he was losing control, and the upcoming storm wasn’t going to be pretty.  With a sigh, the Black Ghost of Imladris™ headed towards the wine cellar and his secret stash of Mirkwood wine, housed in what looked like water kegs to keep the lush, Glorfindel, out of them.

 

“OOF!” was the sound Legolas made as he had the wind knocked out of him when, upon turning the corner, he was plowed into by Erestor.  The advisor was obviously disturbed by something.  He looked glorious in his ire.  His black mane was flowing loose, snaking around his shoulders in delicate wispy strands.  His black robes swirled around him as if a ghost was caught in a breeze….  ‘Wait,’ Legolas thought, remembering the oak’s words.  ‘Erestor must be the black shadows the oak spoke of.   Apologizing profusely, Legolas bowed and made to pass Erestor, determined to follow him stealthily, to find where he was going in such hurry.

 

With a growl, Erestor glared at the crown prince of Mirkwood, then nodded at the apology before hurrying on his way.  He was so incensed, that he didn’t realize that Legolas was stealthily stalking him, something both Glorfindel and Elrond would have a field day with if they knew about it.  Erestor had been a spy during the great wars and his attention to detail was second to none.  Nothing got past his detection.  Well nothing except being followed by one blond prince.

 

 

Erestor sighed as he opened the spigot on the first water keg, allowing the ruby red wine fill his goblet to the brim.    Lifting the chalice to his lips, he took a long swig, then moved over to the table along the wall.  This is where Legolas found him.

 

“Oh, sorry,  I didn’t realize anyone was down here,” Legolas lied, doing his best acting performance to appear innocent before Erestor.  “I just came to drink in peace.  The mass of elves in the dining hall are making me claustrophobic and I needed to get away.  May I join you?”

 

Erestor looked Legolas up and down.  “Yes, feel free to join me.  There are many vintages here that you might enjoy.”  Erestor raised an eyebrow as the thought of Legolas, spread on the table, with him pounding into his backside, crossed the advisor’s mind.  “The only thing you may not touch, is the Mirkwood vintage your father brought for me.  If you drink that, you must pay a forfeit.”

 

Legolas sized up Erestor.  He was fair of face, tall, lithe, and if the memory of the collision was anything to go by, quite ripped.  Dirty thoughts filled his mind of what such a forfeit might entail as he grabbed a goblet from the cabinet and turned to survey the hundreds of barrels, casks and kegs stored in the cool cellar.  His nose had picked up on the scent of the wine in Erestor’s goblet, and knowing the elf had not had time to move far, he narrowed down his search.

 

Surveying the rows, Legolas moved to an obvious wine cask and sniffed.  It didn’t smell correct.  “Nope, not what I am looking for.”  He moved to a barrel and sniffed.  His nose wrinkled at the scent of ale and he shuddered.  “Definitely not.  I do not see how anyone can drink that dwarven swill.  It is nasty stuff.”  Legolas spied the water kegs and his brow wrinkled.  “Now why would there be water kegs in the wine cellar?  Me thinks someone is trying to hide something from someone.”  Stepping closer, he breathed deeply and sighed in pleasure  “So what will my forfeit be, dear Erestor?  It appears I drank from the wrong keg and now owe you.” He filled his goblet to the brim.  Watching the dark advisor over the brim of his chalice, Legolas took a long draw, moaning in pleasure before stepping closer to the table where Erestor sat. 

 

Erestor’s response to the prince’s question was to rise and walk to the cellar door.  Legolas was about to protest when Erestor turned the key in the lock, not removing it, so that no one could unlock the door from the outside.  When Erestor turned back, he had a sultry grin on his face and his deft fingers were unbuttoning his robes as he strode back to where Legolas leaned against the table.  “Hmmm,” Erestor purred as his shrugged his robes off onto the floor.  He then removed the goblet from Legolas’s hand, setting it on the table before running his hands through the blond tresses.  He couldn’t resist. He wrapped himself around the slighter elf before crushing his mouth to his lips.

 

Legolas’s senses sprung to life as if struck by lightning, and he in turn wrapped himself around Erestor, drawing the elf to him as if trying to crawl inside his skin.  Their mouths were mating as if trying to eat each other, and only soft sighs and moans filled the wine cellar.

 

Erestor’s hands were busy, and as if by magic, Legolas realized he was nude before him. He sucked in his breath when he realized Erestor was nude as well.  Legolas allowed himself to be pressed back against the table and reclined back, bringing Erestor’s mouth with him.  He moaned as he was swiftly prepared, and sighed as he was breached to the hilt on one long smooth thrust.  Breaking his mouth away to gasp for breath, Legolas smiled dreamily, the long, deep thrusts setting him aflame.  “Harder, faster,” he moaned, wrapping his legs around Erestor’s pistoning hips to draw him even deeper. 

 

Soon, joint cries filled the wine cellar, and Erestor collapsed upon Legolas.  Both elves were slick with sweat and Legolas’s fluids.  Reaching out, Erestor grabbed the goblet closest to them, talking a long draw from it before offering it to his mate. 

 

For the rest of the games, Erestor was in a good and jolly mood.  Glorfindel remarked in passing to Legolas one afternoon, as they were preparing for the mounted games, that Erestor seemed to be in a much better mood this year. All Legolas could do was shrug as he swung onto his stallion’s back.  The slight discomfort of being on horseback was a small price to pay for the totally enjoyable time he had been having in the arms of Erestor.  He felt a grin spread across his face as he thought about  the prize Erestor had offered him for beating Glorfindel in the mounted games.  Laughing out loud, Legolas left Glorfindel scratching his head as he rode away.


End file.
